Over the course of the next few months I would like to include more of my work from theorising on multiculturalism. No doubt influenced by the multicultural reality that many of us now find ourselves in, my propensity to look at things from multiple perspectives continues to grow and develop. As I originate from Rochdale…

I went down to the water and saw them Face down in the wet hours weeping Red flower donations Language changing with the flow of the river Fleeing the flood, singing a different tune Silver fish darting toward where river greets mouth Fresh lake water gargle A harvest for rain, pray heaven, from the skies…

The fast sky shakes itself against the horizon Clouds standing still outside the rainy motel The spill of centuries I here hold, my separate place A mask and a wall to shut out your spies Acrylic eyes and sharpened talons My bayonet tongue, I am sharp in old armour Half covered in leaf, my back…

Since you went away I’ve been coughing up A love that tastes Like spring I see you every year In bloom A crowd of yellow and gold A vast sea of daffodils Cupping the last of the suns light In your upturned petals I hear you in the Swallows sweet song Singing your soul out…

He said baby come I’ll tell you my story in the language of my lust Whispered Against the soft fuzz of your ripe feminine fruit Watching As you listen Squirm and swell My firm words dancing In your beautiful hell Your passion pocket blushing Feverish crimson He said baby come Let the lick of my lines…

Thin pink lips contorted into a fat lie. Betrayal lingering on the thread of his breath. His mask slipping. Sorry. The confessions of his eyes wandering, Fastening me on the spot, sweating. Every fibre of my body shedding, Tears of my souls left overs. Flowing like water down a flushed toilet. Light behind my face, galloping away…

The months groaned by, shifting into years She wandered and she wandered Turning mad with the uselessness of her life No income Living cheaply Rounding up unfinished cigarette butts from abandoned ashtrays Her fingertips stained a grubby yellow Teeth so loose, her smile resembled the bars of a prison cell Her tongue the prisoner She…

Culture. A culture of racism. A culture of political correctness. A culture of bigotry. A culture of ignorance. A culture of police brutality. A culture of violence. A culture of sexual violence and rape against women. A culture of institutionalised child sex abuse. A culture of historic sexual abuse. A culture of Apathy. A culture…

In an article published in The Telegraph in 2014, Liz Bayram, Chief executive of the Professional Association of Childcare and Early Years (PACEY) attempted to demonstrate some of the elements and concerns regarding children’s transition into formal schooling. Mainly she discussed the challenges that both children and their parents face when taking that all important first…